A Thousand Broken Wings
by Vita Fidens
Summary: The sequel to "No Bandage Can Mend These Parts" and the conclusion to the series - Dean Ambrose and Liz Moore have struggled for years with their feelings towards each other and the havoc they create in each other's lives. Can they stand together in the end, or will they finally fall apart?
1. Chapter 1

The phone calls started almost instantly after I left.

I knew better than to answer them.

Dean needed some time. And, quite frankly, so did I. His explosive temper terrified me, and it pissed me off more than a little bit that I'd been the recipient of it once again. I'd done what he'd asked, and I was still getting shit from him for it.

It made me livid.

I sped back to the hotel, trying desperately to keep my temper in check. I went to the bar and had a drink, which didn't do much to calm my frazzled nerves.

I finally made my way upstairs and was able to settle in enough to get to the work Paul needed done. In fact, I got to the work he needed done for the next three shows. My anger gave me focus.

I was debating another drink down at the bar when the pounding on my door started. It was fast, loud, and obviously angry.

"Open up your fucking door you _stupid_ bitch," he snarled.

I flipped the door off. I was in no mood.

"I'll tear it off the fucking hinges, Lizzy; I'm not fucking around."

"Go fuck yourself," my mouth said before my brain caught up. "Just get the fuck away from me."

Of course, this only made him pound on the door harder. After several moments of internal debate, I crossed the room quickly and slid the deadbolt to unlock it. Dean heard this and stopped pounding.

I wrenched the door open and immediately punched him in the face.

He stumbled back, holding his jaw, before he pushed forward again and shoved me into the room, driving me back to throw me on the bed.

I expected him to do something, but instead he simply paced in front of me for a few minutes.

"I could really fucking kill you this time, you know that?" He finally asked, pausing to stare at me.

"Then do it," I snapped, propping myself up on my elbows to meet his eyes more directly. "Stop being a fucking pussy and do it."

His eyes widened, and after a moment an incredulous laugh fell out of his mouth. "You've got some fucking balls, lady. You're the one who fucks up _my_ life, and yet you have the luxury of being pissed off? I don't fucking think so."

It was my turn to laugh incredulously. "I fucked up _your _life? Are you fucking kidding me? Did you ever stop to consider what you've done to _my_ life?" I fumed. Before he could answer, I pressed on. "You took away my fucking job. You took away my fucking sanity. At every opportunity, you have hurt me. You've abused me physically and mentally, and I still kept trying to forgive your stupid ass. I kept hoping that the good would someday, somehow, outweigh the bad. Well it doesn't. It never fucking has, and it never fucking will. GET OUT OF MY ROOM AND STAY OUT OF MY LIFE. I am so DONE with this and I am so DONE with YOU."

He stood staring at me hesitantly, his mouth open. The shock in his eyes only made me burst into angry, sick tears.

After a few moments, when it became apparent that I wasn't going to regain my composure, he gently sat down beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.

I wrenched away from him angrily. "Don't touch me," I spat through a fresh spate of tears.

He ignored me and pulled me into his chest. I hit him listlessly for a few moments while he held me tightly against him, but eventually I simply ran out of steam and stopped.

"We've put each other through Hell, Lizzy," he said conversationally, his voice rumbling through his chest. I nodded, still sniffling. "Do you know how many times I've tried to walk away from you? I don't. I've lost count by now. But in the end, I still find you. I still reach for you. I still – always – come back to you."

He gently pushed me back so he could meet my eyes. "I can live without you, baby. I just don't want to. I don't want a life without you in it."

I felt a heaviness settle on my heart. "I can't," I said simply, shaking my head. "It's too much."

"One month," he said, trying to hide the pleading note in his voice and not quite succeeding. "Give me one month to try to make it worthwhile for you."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "We've tried, Dean. We've tried time and time again, and we always end up here. It always ends up like this. I don't have it in me to do it one more time."

He took my hand. "I promise you, this time it won't end like this. One month, Lizzy. Then we can either go from there or go our separate ways once and for all."

I swallowed hard. I wanted to say yes, but I knew that I couldn't. I didn't have anything left. "No, Dean," I said, shaking my head again. "No."

I could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He nodded. "I…." He pursed his lips. "I get it. I don't blame you, ok? And I'm sorry for…everything."

Before I could say another word, before I could forgive him or refuse his apology – I'm still not sure which it would have been – he stood up and walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

I made my way back to Stamford the following morning after a sleepless night. I'd stayed awake to cry, mostly, but at around four in the morning when my tears had dried up I started doing some thinking.

It became abundantly clear to me at that ungodly hour that I needed to make a serious change. Saying no to Dean was a great start, but I honestly knew that I wouldn't be able to stay away from him. And I didn't think that he'd even try to stay away from me.

I landed at three that afternoon and tried to convince myself to get some sleep before I called Paul. But I knew that delaying it wouldn't make any difference other than to strain my conviction. I'd think that I could handle it, and I'd be right back in the same mess.

It had to stop.

I sat heavily on my bed and, before I could lose my nerve, I called Paul.

He answered the phone with a guarded "Hello?"

"Hey, Paul. I wanted to talk to you about last night," I said without preamble. Playing nice wasn't going to be necessary here.

"Hey Liz. Are you all right?"

"No," I admitted. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. I need to step down, Paul. This can't keep happening, and I don't know another way to stop it."

He sighed heavily and went silent for a few minutes. I bit my lip nervously.

"I agree with you," he surprised me by saying. "In fact, in my own cowardly way, I'm kind of relieved that you contacted me first about it."

I bit my lip, struggling to hold back my tears. I was letting the one job I'd truly loved go completely. There was no turning back.

"Thank you for everything," I said, managing to keep my voice steady. "It was a hell of an interesting ride."

"It was," he agreed. "You'll have just as much of an interesting time in your next job, I'm sure."

I managed to smile. "Accounting isn't nearly as exciting. There won't be any threats of putting people through tables, unless I have a tough adjustment period back to working in an office."

He managed to chuckle. "I could see you doing that, oddly enough. But your next job won't be in accounting."

"It won't?"

"No. Did you think I'd ask you to leave and hang you out to dry? Stephanie's agreed to bring you on staff at the magazine."

I blinked a few times. "Seriously? After all the trouble I've caused…?"

"Seriously. We want to keep you in the family. And even though you caused a _bit _of trouble, admittedly, you've also made us a hell of a lot of money."

I smiled. "Can't thank you enough," I said, realizing that Paul had definitely pulled some strings for me.

"Thank me by doing a good job and keeping your nose clean, all right?"

"I will. I promise."

"No dating any staff on the magazine. Not even if it comes up in a contract stipulation for you in order to keep your job."

"I've learned my lesson and will be staying away from those nasty contract stipulations from now on."

"Good." He paused. "Do you want to tell everyone or should I?"

I swallowed hard. "I'll tell Seth and Roman right after we hang up. You should probably take care of the rest."

"How will Dean take it?"

The words hung between us for a few minutes. "I honestly don't know," I finally replied carefully. "He was so incredibly angry last night, but we talked. I told him that I couldn't continue on. He knows, I think, that I've hit the wall. But I don't think he'll be happy to hear this news, all the same."

Paul sighed. "I expected that, but part of me was really hoping that you'd say it was all resolved between you two."

"I wish I could say that, too," I confessed. "But I guess if it was, this wouldn't be necessary."

"Fair point." He paused. "I'll miss your antics, Liz."

I managed to laugh without sounding too bitter. "Don't worry. I'm sure there will still be enough crazy to go around."


	3. Chapter 3

I called Seth first. I wasn't sure how he'd take the news.

He listened intently before expressing relief.

"I just want you to be happy, Liz. And I don't think Dean could – or should, after everything – be a part of that. I think you're right to do this."

"Thanks," I said. "I wish that it didn't feel quite so much like failing and giving up, but I think it's the right decision too."

"You didn't give up on anything," he insisted. "You fought hard, and, in the end…it just wasn't worth the fight any more. That's called being intelligent, not failing."

"I know you're right, but it'll take some time to feel that way."

"I know," Seth replied, sounding a bit saddened. "I just wish you could see it through someone else's eyes. I'm _so_ relieved, and I know Ro will be, too."

"Speaking of, I've got to call him now." I realized I was rushing Seth off the phone, but I didn't want to sit around and hear how I was doing the right thing when it felt so wrong. I knew he had good intentions, but I wasn't in the mood.

Ro was a bit more sedate about the news, but I could tell that he was relieved as well. He didn't outright mention it, and asked me how I felt about the whole thing. I explained feeling like a failure, and he had the same notions as Seth.

"Baby girl," he sighed, "this isn't an easy one. If it was, I'd like to think you'd have made this decision a long time ago. You tried to hang in there for what you wanted. You tried everything. In fact, you tried everything twice. There's no shame in walking away from something that keeps hurting you."

"You're not just talking about me walking away from my job," I said flatly.

"Of course not. Your job was never the problem. Your relationship with Dean was."

"Yeah," I managed to say, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me. I tried to let it flow, knowing that it had to be felt at some point. "Am I making a mistake?"

"I don't think so," Ro replied carefully. "I think you gave all that you could, and in the end…it just didn't work. With a man like Dean, it will never work. You're not the broken one here, and you have nothing to be ashamed of."

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to hear it, but I could feel in my heart that he was right. "Thanks, Ro," I said softly.

"Don't mention it. Seriously. Don't. If Dean finds out that I said that about him, I'm going to have a busted face. And I like my face just the way it is."

He managed to make me laugh with that, at least.

I could tell when Paul broke the news, as my phone blew up shortly thereafter.

It was nice to see that I was going to be missed, from the text messages and phone calls that came in from a lot of the guys. Conspicuous in his absence was Dean. I realized that it meant he was probably taking the news very badly. I tried not to worry about it.

'Good luck, Lizzy,' I read a late text message from Sheamus. 'I'll miss ya. Maybe we can get together when I roll through Stamford and finally have a drink.'

I shook my head. He was persistent; I could give him that much. I elected not to answer immediately, knowing that I wasn't in the right frame of mind. In spite of all of his faults, I genuinely did like the blockhead and wanted to at least try to remain friendly with him.

After the stream of messages had slowed, Paul called me.

"I gather," he said when I picked up, "that you realize I told everyone?"

I managed to smile. "I think my battery's just about dead from all of the well-wishes. I'm going to miss those guys."

"You're going to be just as missed." He paused, and then got to the real reason for calling. "Dean did not take the news well."

I closed my eyes. "I figured he wouldn't."

"I made sure to tell him separately before everyone else. Three folding chairs and a table suffered his wrath, but he didn't hurt any living being."

"At least there's that," I replied. "Did he hurt himself?"

"Just some bloody knuckles. Physically, he'll be fine."

I couldn't help but notice the slight stress on the word 'physically.' Damnit. "You don't think he'll be fine in other ways, though." It wasn't a question.

"No, I truly don't. He might learn to live with the idea in time, but this really threw him. If he contacts you, just be careful how you handle him. He's very…fragile…at the moment."

I nodded. "Thanks for the warning."

We hung up shortly after, and I found myself waiting for the phone to ring again. I wasn't sure if I should speak to him or not if he called. It might give him an outlet to release some anger, or it might simply push him further towards the edge.


	4. Chapter 4

'OK. I'm drunk enough to deal with this now, Lizzy.' My phone beeped at me at around two-thirty the following morning.

I was still awake, each hour that passed gnawing at me a little more and making it impossible to sleep. I didn't realize how nervous I was until his text came in and a small feeling of relief flooded over me, loosening the knot in my stomach.

I hesitated a few moments before answering. I didn't know what to say. I finally settled on 'Are you ok?'

My phone rang in my hand seconds after I sent that gem.

"Am I fucking ok?" Dean greeted me, a nasty snarl in his voice.

"I didn't know what else to say," I admitted lamely.

"How about 'sorry for being a coward and making you hear through other people that I'm a punk bitch and I'm running away from my own life'? That would be a good start."

I sighed quietly. "I am sorry if you were offended by that. I thought it would be better if Paul told you."

"Better for who, exactly? Because the way I see it, it was much better for you than it was for me."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry, you're sorry, you're _fucking right_ you're sorry! When are you going to stop being _so sorry_ and just stop doing things you need to apologize for?"

"Dean, this is for the best and we both know that."

"Don't tell me what's for the best. Not for me. You don't make that decision."

"Fine, then," I said, shaking my head. I was trying so hard to keep my composure, and I was starting to slip. "It's best for me this way. I told you the truth the other night – there is nothing left in the tank. I'm running on fumes. I need to be away from you right now."

He fell silent for a few minutes. "You're sure?" He finally asked.

"Yes."

"You're absolutely, one-hundred percent sold on this idea, Elizabeth," he said flatly. "Don't lie to me because you think it will help give us a clean break. Tell me how you really think and feel."

I closed my eyes and took a minute to consider his words. "There is a big part of me that is relieved to be leaving," I said carefully. "I didn't lie about loving you, Dean, and so I take no joy in this. But I feel like it's the right thing for me to do. I can't live my life that way anymore. I can't do it, and so I won't."

He was quiet. "And what about the not-so-big part of you? How does that part feel?"

"Sad," I was able to say immediately. "I'm hurting at the idea that it's finally over between us. I feel like a failure for walking away from everything in order to try and get my head straight. I'm hurt. I'm angry. And I'm very, very afraid of what the future holds for me."

"Do you miss me?"

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to answer this question. He repeated it again, slowly, after noting my hesitance.

"Of course I do," I admitted. "I miss the you that holds me at night; the one that presses his lips into my hair when he thinks I'm asleep and smiles. I don't miss the you that's mean and angry and antagonistic. I don't miss the you that hurts."

"They're both me. You can't miss one and not the other," he countered, sounding tired.

"Yes, I can. I can miss the good parts of you and decide to not miss the bad. I think I've earned that much."

"Maybe I don't give you enough credit for what you've gone through with me, Lizzy," He said suddenly, and I found myself confused by his abrupt change of topic. "Maybe I need to be better about that. If I'm better about that, will you stay?"

I blinked hard against the sudden tears that filled my eyes. Son of a bitch.

"Dean," I started, unsure of what I was even going to say before "it's not just you," blurted out of my mouth. "It's the two of us, together. We're a volatile combination. We both need to change, and we both need time for that."

"So if I work on changing, you'll come back," he said. It wasn't a question. "I'll prove it to you, Lizzy. You'll hardly know me when you see me next."

I didn't have a chance to respond. He hung up on me.

"Oh, Dean," I murmured, feeling my heart suddenly gain fifty pounds.

I'd done a very dangerous thing. I'd given him hope.


	5. Chapter 5

I slept like hell for the next few days, but Dean didn't contact me again. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or upset by that.

A few weeks passed, and I assumed that he had forgotten all about his drunken promise of changing to suit me. At least, I hoped that he had.

I began to slowly settle into my new role at the magazine. It was mostly helping Stephanie oversee content and keeping the writers and photographers in check as far as their story deadlines. They were, quite honestly, a very good and self-sufficient crew. It was really an easy job, with next-to-no stress.

Frankly, it was a nice change of pace from the past few years. And, after a month, I found that I really enjoyed how quiet my life had become.

That all changed when the WWE rolled into Bridgeport.

I had half-expected it, and I even somewhat looked forward to it. It would be good to see most of the guys again.

I went to the show, nervous to be back. I shouldn't have been. I was greeted very warmly, and everyone commented on how much better I looked. I was sleeping. My hair wasn't falling out from stress. I even managed to smile every now and again.

It was clear to everyone, me included, that the right decision had been made.

I only caught a brief glimpse of Dean backstage. I was in the middle of a large group, all of the members of which were trying to talk to me at once. He very pointedly ignored all of us and continued what I recognized as his pre-match warm-up. I quickly looked away so that he wouldn't catch me staring. I didn't want to make a potentially awkward situation even worse.

Even after the show, when the entire crew went out to a bar, we maintained ourselves in separate corners. I'd catch him looking at me from time to time, my hesitant smiles of greeting going unanswered.

That was not at all comforting.

In spite of that, the night passed without incident. If you could call me dumping a drink down the back of Sheamus because he tried to stick his hand down my shirt 'without incident,' that is. I quite nearly slapped him until Ro caught my hand and pulled me away.

"Let it go, baby girl," he said. "We'll deal with it."

I glanced up at him, and I could see the expression on his face telling me that Sheamus would be sorry. I finally nodded and relaxed, and he let me go. I turned away quickly, feeling my face get hot from my anger.

Dean finally caught my gaze, his expression unreadable. He'd been standing, and he glanced from Sheamus back to me, asking me an obvious silent question. I shook my head very gently, and he gave a brief nod in return before sitting back at his table and ignoring me.

I wouldn't pretend to know what was going through his head. Instead, I focused on having a good time. And I did.

I had such a good time that I had to catch a cab back to my apartment, as I was in no state to drive. I invited Seth and Ro to come stay at my place, but they'd already checked into their hotel. We went our separate ways, and I found myself missing being on the road with them for the first time.

I blamed it on the booze.

I made it back home and started to get ready to go to sleep.

It was so soft at first that I thought I'd imagined it. But a part of me must have known, because I paused halfway through climbing into bed and listened.

There it was again – a soft knock at my door.


	6. Chapter 6

I was very cautious as I made my way down the hall towards my front door. It could be Sheamus. It could be Seth or Ro. It could be an axe murderer.

Or, worst of all…it could be Dean.

I glanced through the peephole and had my worst fears confirmed. I truly would have taken an axe murderer over whatever hell this was going to be. At least I could stab an axe murderer with no regret.

I cracked the door open. "What's up?"

He seemed surprised that I answered. "Can I come in?" He asked, regaining his sense quickly.

"I don't think that's a great idea."

"It's been a month, Lizzy. Let's just talk, ok? We've both had time. We're both rational. Let's talk about everything."

I closed my eyes. "We've said everything already."

"You might have, but I haven't. So please. You said you loved me. Just let me get this off of my chest."

I took a deep breath before finally nodding and letting him in.

We sat awkwardly at my kitchen table for a few minutes. He simply alternated staring at me and his clasped hands.

"Dean," I prodded gently, "what did you want to tell me?"

He sighed. "I wanted to tell you that I've done a lot of thinking. I've done a lot of soul-searching. And, after seeing you tonight, I've come to the conclusion that I'm no good for you. I don't deserve you, and I probably never did."

I glanced at him curiously. "You look fantastic," he said simply. "I didn't realize how run-down I made you. You seem so happy. Are you happy?"

I blinked a few times, trying to comprehend. "I'm at peace," I finally replied slowly.

His eyebrows twitched. "That's not what I asked."

I glanced away. "My life is a lot quieter now. I'm finding that it's much harder to make me angry. It's much more difficult to rattle my cage. I…I like it. I didn't expect to enjoy such stillness."

"Elizabeth," he said, his voice stern. "Are you happy?"

I met his eyes directly. "Leave it alone, Dean," I said, hearing the warning growl in my own voice.

The right side of his mouth twitched upwards a few times before he was able to wipe his face completely free of any expression. He stared at me for a few moments, obviously contemplating something, before he leaned over the table and pulled me to him.

"I'll leave it alone," he murmured, his fingers trailing over my face gently. "But I'll need a distraction."

His lips were suddenly pressed against mine, soft and warm. Within a few seconds, the kiss lost its friendly, sweet feel and he was kissing me desperately. Or was I kissing him desperately? It became hard to tell.

After several minutes, I tried to pull away, gasping. His eyes glowed at me, his expression quite serious.

"One more time, Lizzy," he said gently. "Please."

I shook my head. "That's not a good idea."

"Baby," he murmured urgently, pulling me back to him. "Please." His mouth found my neck, and I closed my eyes against the desire that washed over me. "Let me say goodbye."

I shook my head. "It's never goodbye with you, Dean," I said gently, trying to dislodge myself. "It's always the promise of goodbye if I just give in. Time after time. And look where we are." I gestured around me. "We're right back here at goodbye again."

He smiled, but he looked ill. "I can't, Lizzy," he whispered. "I can't let go of you. I try over and over to mean it when I say goodbye, but I never really do. I can't. You're so much a part of me now…I'm not me without you anymore."

I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. "I hate this," I admitted, a bitter laugh slipping through my lips.

He took advantage of me temporary blindness and began kissing me again. "One night," he said softly, his tongue flicking my earlobe while he spoke. "Just one night. Please."

"Dean," I murmured, but his mouth pressed to mine. His hand very lightly slid between my thighs, which I spread without conscious thought to allow access to his fingers.

He pulled away, a small smirk on his face, while he slid his hand up the leg of my shorts and into my panties. The sadness in his eyes extinguished immediately and all I could see was lust.


	7. Chapter 7

His hands were roaming over my back, his face pressed gently into my neck. I felt his nails dig in to my skin and I moved faster in response, holding the headboard to keep me steady.

He lifted his hips the slight bit he was able to thrust deeper into me, bringing his head back and pulling my face down to his for a kiss.

It had started with me on top of him, but he had suddenly sat up and wrapped his body around mine. Not the best position for sex I'd ever encountered, but there was something very sweet about it all the same.

"Slow," he murmured, holding my hips and demonstrating how he wanted me to move. "We have the rest of the night."

He grinned up at me, and I had to smile back. I bent and kissed him, moving in that agonizingly slow way that he wanted. He slid his hands back up my back, his fingers flexing gently. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his.

"I love you, you goddamn psychopath," I murmured, my eyes closed.

I could feel him smile. "I love you, you stubborn ass," he replied, lightly tugging at my hair. "What are we going to do about that?"

I didn't want to think about it right then, so I began to move faster. The smile on his face melted into an expression of bliss. "Slow, Lizzy," he tried to say again, but I pressed my lips to his and ignored him completely.

"Ah, fuck," he muttered, and I found myself suddenly on my back.

His mouth was at my neck again, but this time I could feel his teeth scrape against the skin there. I closed my eyes, a small smile on my face as I dug my nails into his back.

He finally began to pick up the pace, plunging into me over and over again. One hand wound itself in my hair to allow him better access to my neck; the other hand slipped up to cradle my breast, his fingers deftly toying with my hard nipple.

I could tell that he was getting close, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Don't stop," I panted in his ear. "Please don't stop."

He emitted a strangled sound of frustration and unfulfilled desire, but he slowed down.

"You're killing me," he murmured next to my ear, his tongue lightly teasing my earlobe.

I grabbed the hand that was resting on my breast and gently pushed it down between us. He understood immediately and began stroking my clit, building the intensity very quickly.

I rocked my hips against him, my hands wrapping in his hair without my conscious notice. He punctuated the motion of his fingers with a hard, deep thrust every few seconds until I finally fell over the edge, arching my back and tugging at his hair.

He sighed with what sounded like relief before speeding up and having his own orgasm, collapsing on top of me in a panting, sweaty mess as he kissed me over and over again.

He cradled my face in his hands and stared down at me with a grave expression on his face. "You love me," he said flatly.

"We've established this," I replied cautiously.

He stared down at me and shook his head. I waited patiently for him to continue.

"Give me a month."

I could feel my face fall. "You said that this was goodbye," I reminded him. "I thought that we weren't going to do this again."

"If you didn't realize that I was going to at least try, you don't know me very well," he replied, sliding his body away from mine but keeping his eyes focused on my face. "What's the harm, Lizzy?" He asked, sounding tired.

"You said it yourself, Dean. I'm better without you."

I knew how it sounded the minute it left my mouth, but nothing could have prepared me for the pain that flooded his face. Goddamnit. I kept fucking this up.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately, trying to take some of the sting away from the words.

He shook his head. "Don't be. You're right. I admitted as much to you."

He got off of my bed and began to get dressed. My heart sank rapidly in my chest. Could we ever just have a few moments together that didn't end in disaster?

I sat there, useless, while he cinched his belt and threw his shirt on over his head. Finally, he turned back to me and leaned over the bed to kiss me.

"We had a good run, kid," he managed to say, a small smile on his lips. "I love you."

I was barely able to return his smile. "I love you too," I said, my voice choking up.

"None of that," he admonished gently, kissing my forehead. "Go on and be happy. You've earned that much."


	8. Chapter 8

I didn't hear from him for a long time after that night.

There were no texts, no late-night phone calls, not a flicker that he even knew I still existed.

I did my best to move on with my life, and I managed pretty well. Against my wishes, I met a man who I liked well enough – Mark, the investment banker. He had big blue eyes and a laid-back surfer-dude vibe.

We were both very non-committal with each other, which was something I needed at that time. I was still hurting over my loss, and while I'd stopped kicking myself quite so hard I still had my times where I wondered if I'd made a mistake.

About eight months after I'd last seen Dean, and two months into seeing Mark, the WWE held a gala event during WrestleMania season, and I was invited to go. I hesitantly invited Mark to accompany me, and he agreed.

I didn't know what to expect that night, but what happened would change my life forever.

I was blissfully unaware of that as I made myself pretty, grumbling all the while about having to wear a dress. Mark showed up a few minutes late, distracted, but looking exactly like arm candy should in a tuxedo.

We made it to the venue without incident, although I noticed Mark was relatively quiet. I shrugged it off. I wasn't excited about this either, and I worked for the company and pretty much knew the crowd that was going to be there. He didn't have the advantage of either stipulation, and so I couldn't exactly expect him to be bouncing off the walls with excitement.

We made our rounds, saying hello and giving introductions where need be. I saw Seth, Leigh, Ro, and Kaitlyn over in a corner and immediately dragged Mark that way. I introduced him to everyone, and Seth began chatting with him in a friendly way while I caught up with the others.

"Nice man candy," Kaitlyn said appreciatively, raising her eyebrows.

"Hey!" Ro said, giving her a pointed look. I had to laugh.

"Thanks," I said, feeling myself blush.

"Serious?"

I shook my head. "Very casual. I just didn't want to show up alone."

"Probably a wise move," Ro said. "Sheamus got the hint after last time, but it's been awhile. He might have forgotten."

I chuckled, remembering how quickly the Irishman had ducked out of my path on our way in. "No, I don't believe he has."

We all chatted idly for a little while until we were finally joined by Dean.

My heart stopped in my chest, and then went double-time. It would have done that any way at his arrival, but the fact that he was in a tuxedo didn't help matters. He looked fantastic.

"Hey Lizzy," he greeted me, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," I replied, catching myself in time to smile back. He stepped forward cautiously and opened his arms, and I gave him a very quick hug.

"You look terrific," he said, his smile widening.

"So do you," I replied.

He glanced behind me and nodded in Mark's direction. Taking the hint, I dislodged him from Seth and introduced him to Dean. I held my breath for a moment while they shook hands, but nothing at all unusual happened, and we all went about our evening.

After an hour or so, Mark pulled me outside. I'd been chatting with Leigh and Seth, and he rather rudely interrupted our conversation.

"What's up?"

He shook his head. "Liz, this isn't for me. I'm going to head home."

"Are you serious?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "You go in and have fun. I'll catch a cab. I'll call you, ok?" He said, as he quickly retreated.

"Don't bother," I replied, shaking my head. He couldn't even find the decency to reply, he just kept walking.

I stood there for a few minutes, stewing. "Are you all right?" A familiar voice asked from behind me.

I turned to see Dean standing there, lighting a cigarette.

"Yeah," I replied through a tight smile, taking a few steps towards him with my arms crossed over my chest. "Just seems as though I still have the same shitty taste in men."

He gave me a grin and clutched at his heart. "Words hurt, Lizzy," he teased.

"Oh shut up," I answered, although I couldn't stop the smile on my face from blooming into a genuine one.

He laughed, inhaling deeply and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "How have you been?"

"I've been good. How about you?"

"I've been good," he answered. "Working hard. I, uh…I started seeing someone. Professionally," he added hastily. "To talk about all of the…stuff…I went through growing up. The stuff with my dad. And, well, my mom too."

"I'm really glad to hear that. Is it helping?"

He nodded. "Yeah, actually. It really has." He pushed himself off of the wall and took a few steps towards me. "I talk about you pretty often," he said, a small smile on his face.

I laughed nervously. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good thing." He reached out and lightly touched my cheek. "I miss you. A lot."

I glanced away, sighing. "I try really hard not to miss you a lot," I admitted. "And I mostly fail."

He closed the space between us and wrapped his arms around me. "Let's get out of here, go somewhere and talk. Like, really talk. Ok?"

I nodded, pressed into his chest. "Ok."


	9. Chapter 9

"So tell me," he said, staring at me over his cup of coffee, "how did you meet that loser?"

I managed to smile. "Friend of a friend type thing. Well, acquaintance of an acquaintance, really." He maintained his stony eye contact. "I guess I just needed a distraction," I finally added. "You know how that goes."

He grinned. "Nope. Can't say I do."

I gave him a look. "Oh come on."

He shook his head. "Not since you. I'm holding out."

"For _what_?"

"If I tell you, you won't be able to sit there and stew over it," he teased, going to drink more of his coffee.

I tried to hold back my smile and failed. "You're still infuriating."

"Did you really expect that to change?"

I finally laughed, shaking my head. We were sitting in a diner, incredibly conspicuous in our evening attire. But I found that I didn't care. Dean was happy; smiling, laughing, and joking around more than I had ever known him to do.

It was all too easy to remember why I loved him.

"So what do you want to talk about?" I asked, trying to change the topic away from my idiot date.

The smile melted away from his face. "I want to talk about us."

I nodded. "I expected that. What's on your mind?"

"I miss you. You miss me. We're both getting to healthy, productive places in our lives. My offer still stands, Lizzy. Give me one month. We can evaluate from there."

I sighed heavily, glancing away from him. I knew what I should do – I should say no. We were both happier without the destruction we brought to each other's lives. We were both better people. We were both…completely alone and miserable. Maybe I was projecting my own emotions onto Dean with that one.

"Are you willing to go through it all again if it goes south?" I asked. "Are you willing to deal with the fallout of whatever chaos we bring to each other?"

He stared at me with a serious expression on his face. "Yes," he said simply.

That single word knocked the breath out of my lungs. "Why?" I managed to ask, shaking my head.

"Because you're worth it to me," he replied, reaching for my hand. "You are the only thing I've ever wanted in this world. I'm holding out for you."

I couldn't look at him for a minute, not wanting him to see the effect his words had on me. My heart had swelled up gloriously and was shouting at my brain to shut its fucking mouth; we were in charge here.

I let the internal war rage for only a few seconds before I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. I looked up at Dean, who seemed poised to hear bad news.

"We can try," I finally said.

It took him a moment to register what I'd actually said. His own shoulders dropped, and he nodded slowly before his head bounced back up. "You said yes," he said, surprised.

I had to laugh. "Yes, Dean. Yes."


	10. Chapter 10

"_I asked you once to give me a month,"_ he read. "_Then to give me two. Then six. Then a year. Then two years. Do you know what today is?"_

"_No," I replied, smiling._

"_Today is four years, to the exact day, of that night you told me you'd give me a month. So tonight, I'm going to ask you for a little bit more."_

"_Three years?" I asked, unable to contain my grin. "Five?"_

_He smiled back at me. "Not quite." _The man reading the pages smiled as well; he knew what was coming.

_Dean knelt in front of me. "I'm asking you to give me the rest of your life."_

"Baby, what are you reading?"

Dean Ambrose glanced up at his wife, who was coming through the door juggling bags of groceries. He grinned at her and waved a large sheaf of loose-leaf paper.

"I found it in the attic this afternoon," he replied, taking a sizable bite of the sandwich in front of him. "'_I shot an especially dirty look to Dean Ambrose, the messy-haired blond who had the gall to smile back at me blandly,_'" he read, enjoying the horror that came over his wife's face.

"Oh God, did you read the whole thing?" She asked, setting the groceries down on the table.

"It was very engaging, sweetheart," he teased. "Although your villain was a bit over-the-top."

"Oh shut up," Liz replied, her face turning red as she reached for the paper.

He pulled them out of her reach, standing up and leaning forward to kiss her. She kissed him back, still attempting to dislodge the writing from his hands.

"Nope," he said, grinning. "I'm keeping this for posterity."

"Just don't let the kids see it, all right?" She admonished, shaking her head. "They don't need to know everything about our past."

"Agreed," he replied, bending down to kiss her again. "Are they settled in with Seth and Leigh?"

"They are. We have the house to ourselves tonight, Mr. Ambrose."

"Good," he said, dropping the paper on the table and picking his wife up. She laughed, swatting at him playfully.

"Where are you taking me, you big oaf?"

"Sweetheart, the detail you went into recounting some of the things we did…." He shook his head. "I'm glad we have the house to ourselves."

He brought her into their bedroom, dropping her in the bed. In a few moments, any thoughts about that stack of paper on the dining room table vanished from both of their minds.


	11. Chapter 11

Curled up against his wife's warm, sleeping body, Dean's thoughts finally returned to the written account of their relationship.

He smiled down at Lizzy. There were so many things it had been interesting to see from her perspective. There were so many things that she still didn't know.

The sex tape that never was, for example. He'd gotten one of the girls backstage to do some voice acting. He was amazed also that she hadn't worked out that he'd asked Paul – well, ok, he'd _begged_ Paul – to split her up with that British lawyer.

He felt a small chuckle rise in his chest as he thought about the last few pages. She'd never realized that he'd cornered her date at the gala that night and threatened him with a cheery smile on his face.

He shook his head, still smiling, and glanced down at Liz.

So she didn't know that he'd tweaked fate a little bit. So what?

She belonged with him.


	12. Molly Parker

Hello readers of the series!

Thank you all so much for your love and support through the whole 21-part (!) saga of Dean and Liz.

I wanted to take a break from writing, but my brain had other ideas. I wanted to try a new idea out on you all. So, I posted a bit of a roughed-out preview of a new series I'm considering - you can find it under my pen name or under the generic title of "Molly Parker Saga."

I'd really love feedback on this one, as it's a bit different than my other stuff and I'm on the fence about fleshing it out. You can review it, message me here, or tweet me ( VitaFidens) and let me know your thoughts if you're so inclined.

Again, thank you all for reading and loving this series as much as I did. I hope the next one captures your attention just as much!


	13. I Can Finally Breathe Again

_Ms. Elizabeth Moore and Mr. Dean Ambrose request the honor of your presence at their marriage celebration  
Saturday, October twenty-fifth -_

"Nope," I muttered, ripping up the white slab of paper in front of me. "That stupid son-of-a-bitch." I hung my head in my hands.

We were never going to get things right.

* * *

For one last encore, my friends, please see "I Can Finally Breathe Again." I hope you enjoy it.


End file.
